


First Impressions

by Erdariel



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: (mostly), Attempt at Humor, First Impressions, First Meetings, Gen, How Do I Tag, Humor, Light-Hearted, Pre-Canon, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erdariel/pseuds/Erdariel
Summary: Treville's thoughts about Aramis, Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan as he first meets each of them.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Athos' part in this is longer and written in a slightly different style because it's cannibalized from an old fic I started that didn't really go anywhere so I didn't publish it but hadn't deleted it either, and while I did edit it a bit to fit this one, I didn't feel like rewriting it completely.

“You’d like to be a hero, wouldn’t you?” Treville said, casting a measuring look at the young man standing before him.

“Yes.”

The young man – Aramis, he called himself – looked Treville in the eye with an expression that was just short of defiant. Treville suppressed a sigh. 

“I don’t need heroes”, he said. “I need soldiers. War isn’t a game, and if you treat it as such, you’ll get yourself killed. Painfully. And worse, you might get half the regiment killed with you. I won’t have that.”

“I wouldn’t do anything that stupid!” Aramis protested.

“Good. I’m still not looking for would-be-heroes.”

“What if I promise you I won’t start playing hero unless you tell me to?” Aramis asked.

Now Aramis was grinning impishly. Sooner or later he’d probably get in trouble by talking in that manner to someone who didn’t have as much patience as Treville. But then again, if he was as clever as he was quick to talk back, if he could be bothered to learn manners and respect… he was already a fine rider, and he was a good shot, and decent with a sword. With some training, he could be a great soldier. It could be worth a try.

“If you do that, I can take you on for a while. If I still think you’re promising in a few months, you’ll be a full Musketeer”, Treville told him. “But I’ll hold you to that promise, so you’d better keep that in mind. No stupid tricks.”

Aramis’ eyes glinted with eagerness. “Alright. Got that. No extra heroics. I promise.”

“Then I’ll have you, for now at least.”

Treville watched Aramis thoughtfully as the young man left. Aramis, he thought, would either turn out an arrogant jerk that he’d have to throw out of the regiment, or a great soldier loved by his brothers in arms. Which it would be, only time would tell.

**\---**

"Porthos is a fine soldier, and to be honest with you, I'd only be happy to keep him to myself if you don't want him. But he's interested in joining the Musketeers, and he’s served in the regiment long enough and loyally enough to deserve that if you think he’s fit for it", the captain told Treville.

Treville nodded, settling more comfortably into his chair. "You said he's a commoner, not nobility?"

"You can't get much further from noble than he is, really", the captain said. "He's an orphan, grew up in the streets with thieves and beggars. Every inch up from that is something he's earned, all by himself. Was just barely sixteen when he became a soldier, and been under my command ever since. Now, he's wanted something more for a couple of years. Wants glory, to be with the best of the best. Can't say as I blame him, he's got the skill, I'd say, and more than enough determination, but I understand well if his background is a problem to you."

"If he's good enough, and you're willing to vouch for him, it's not", Treville replied. 

"I thought so. If I didn't, I wouldn't have bothered to ask you in the first place", the captain said. Then he turned to a servant and asked him to fetch Porthos.

Not long afterwards there was a knock on the door, and Porthos came in. The captain introduced them, and Treville was about to say something, when he saw the young man's face. Whatever words he'd had in his mind never made it out of his mouth, and it was only thanks to an iron discipline built over many many years that not a muscle in his face twitched to reveal he felt anything more than mild, professional interest toward Porthos.

Beyond the facade of calm, however, Treville’s mind was in chaos. Porthos looked all too much like his parents for Treville to have any doubt about it. He was Belgard’s son. He was the child Treville had helped Belgard get rid of. At least he hadn’t ruined Porthos’ life forever and completely. Porthos had made something out of himself. But did Treville still not owe it to give him what he wanted if it was in his power to give that? On the other hand, would it be fair to anyone to let Porthos into the Musketeers if he wasn’t fit to be one, and if he was, would it matter then that Treville was letting into the regiment someone he’d wronged in the past, rather than a complete stranger?

Treville shoved the thoughts aside for the moment. For now, he was going to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“So, you want to become a Musketeer?” he asked.

“Yeah. I do”, Porthos confirmed.

“Your captain here says he thinks you have what it takes, but I need to see it myself. Why don’t we go find someone you can spar with, so I can see what you can do with a sword?” Treville suggested. “Choose a partner you don’t often work with. It’s easier to predict what someone you train with every day will do. I need a more honest picture of your abilities.”

Treville saw soon enough that Porthos really was good. Easily good enough to become a Musketeer. Better even than some Treville had taken in. He showed Treville all the respect a soldier should to his superior, so attitude wasn’t a problem. Then again, Porthos wouldn’t have gotten this far with the background he had without being very careful about the way he acted, so it wasn’t a surprise.

All in all, Treville had no reason not to take Porthos. But taking him into the regiment… Treville had to ask himself if he could treat Porthos fairly, not favoring him over others in some vain attempt to atone for his past sins. Even more importantly, should he tell Porthos what he knew of his past, of his father? Porthos probably wouldn’t want to be a musketeer any longer once he heard of Treville’s part in it, and besides, Treville had vowed never to tell anyone of it, but was a son not entitled to know his father? At least if he knew, he’d know to be wary of Belgard should their paths ever cross, know what a cruel heart was hidden behind the appearance of a perfectly respectable nobleman…

No, Treville decided at last. By the laws of honor, he could not break his sworn word, especially when it would do no good to anyone, and the knowledge would likely hurt Porthos more than not knowing. He’d take Porthos into the regiment because he’d earned a place in it, and treat him just the same as any other Musketeer, and that would be the end of it.

**\---**

Athos was clearly minor nobility, judging by the clothes he wore and the way he spoke and acted. Most Musketeers had similar backgrounds, and provided that Athos would have some good sense and was good enough with weapons, Treville wouldn't be opposed to taking him into the regiment too. 

But there was something in his serious, almost melancholy expression and barely noticeable shades in the tone of his voice that felt strange. Treville couldn't quite name what it was, but he was almost certain there was something he was missing. It wasn't danger, not danger to him or the regiment or the king at least. He knew when his senses warned him of danger, and this wasn't it. But there was something strange about Athos.

Finally Treville decided to ignore it. There was nothing obviously and alarmingly wrong with what the man had told of himself, and that was enough. If he’d turn out not to not be a good Musketeer for one reason or another, Treville could dismiss him from the regiment when that became apparent. Right now, he couldn’t exactly afford not to take in someone who was interested in joining, not without a clear reason. Too many men had been lost at Savoy. To fill their places, to be able to run the regiment like before, Treville needed every man who had the necessary skills and wanted to join.

"Before I can make my decision on whether I take you or not, I'll need to see whether you have skill enough to be a musketeer. Come with me", he told Athos.

They went out of his office and down the stairs to the courtyard. It was late afternoon, and as the weather was surprisingly pleasant and warm considering how far the autumn was, there were several musketeers about. Some were cleaning or repairing weapons or gear, some were practicing some form of fighting with each other, and some were simply chatting or playing games. Porthos was sitting by himself, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, mending a tear in his leather doublet.

"Porthos!" Treville called, and saw Porthos raise his head and give him a questioning look. "Are you busy?"

"Nothin' I can't do later", he replied with a shrug. "There something you want me to do, Captain?"

"Athos here is interested in joining the regiment. I need someone to spar with him so I can see what he can do", Treville said.

Porthos nodded and gave Athos a friendly grin. "Lemme just get my sword."

Porthos soon returned with his sword. He and Athos faced each other, waiting for Treville’s permission to begin. Athos seemed surprisingly calm. Most people, when fighting Porthos for the first time, tended to be a little nervous, and for a good reason, considering how big and strong Porthos was. Treville wondered whether Athos’ calm was arrogance, justified confidence, or faked to make Porthos judge him better than he truly was. Well, that would be seen soon enough.

"Fight as of this was a real fight, with all you’ve got", he instructed them. "But don’t hit with full force, I don’t want you to hurt each other. The fight ends when either one of you gets in a hit that would mean certain death or incapacitation, or when I say it ends. Understood? Good. You may begin."

Athos and Porthos exchanged salutes. They circled each other cautiously for a moment. Then Athos attacked. It was probably a good choice; he was the less skilled and less experienced of the two, and Porthos was also stronger, so it made sense to compensate for the disadvantage by seizing the first attack and setting the pace himself. It did work for a moment; Porthos was forced to concentrate on defending himself. Then he saw an opening in Athos' attack and went for it with the speed of a lighting bolt. Not carelessly, of course, but so quickly that Athos could do little more than get out of the way.

The battle went back and forth for a good while more. Athos was very good with a sword, Treville had to admit that. But he saw that Athos was also very much a nobleman in his manners. He fought politely, not using anything even resembling a dirty tactic even when he had a good opening. He would have done quite well in a polite and regulated court duel; he'd probably been taught by a duelist. He moved with the grace of a dancer - and with the predictability of one.

Athos struck again at Porthos, who blocked the attack. Their swords were tied above their heads. Athos had not been taught how to take advantage of it, but Porthos had. Before Athos could pull away, Porthos had grabbed the pommel of Athos' sword and was pulling it out of his way. At the same time he kicked Athos' legs, making him lose balance and fall. Porthos came down right after Athos, but it happened of his own will and in a controlled movement that would land him with one knee on Athos' chest. 

"Enough!" Treville yelled.

Porthos stopped, his sword raised up and ready for what would have been a death-strike. He got to his feet, put his sword away on a table, and offered Athos a hand to help him get up.

"Thanks", he said, smiling. "That was fun."

Athos smiled politely, but refused the help and got up by himself. He glanced at Treville, clearly waiting his judgement.

"That was good", Treville said. "Better than I expected. If you unlearn the duelist's manners, you’ll become a great swordsman. Thank you, Porthos. You can return to your own tasks now. Let's see if you are any good with a gun, Athos."

Athos proved to be alright with a musket, carbine, and pistol. His aim was by no means bad, though it wasn't spectacular either. If he took his time aiming as a huntsman would, well, speed could always be learned. 

"I've seen enough", Treville said at last. "I'll take you in. Report to me in the morning. I'll have found you something to do by then."

**\---**

“So, you came to Paris to avenge your father, ended up helping Aramis and Porthos prove Athos’ innocence and save his life, and now you want to be a Musketeer? Did I get it right?” Treville asked.

D’Artagnan shifted a little under Treville’s gaze. “Well, yes. That’s about it.”

What a complicated mess. Of course Treville was grateful for the young man’s help. He would have hated losing as good a man as Athos, but gratitude alone was not reason enough to take anyone into the regiment. Treville looked at Aramis, Athos, and Porthos.

“You think he’s good enough?” he asked.

“He managed to keep himself alive until without that much help from us. I’d say he’s promising”, said Aramis cheerfully.

“He does have a lot to learn, though”, Athos put in. “But with some training…”

Treville thought about it. D’Artagnan was, judging by what Treville had just been told, rash and prone to acting before thinking, and good at getting into trouble because of that. They were not exactly traits Treville wanted the musketeers to have. On the other hand, he was brave, which was good, and could use weapons well enough. And Treville was used to being able to trust on the judgement of his men. If Aramis, Porthos, and Athos all were backing d’Artagnan, there had to be at least some potential in him. Then again, just how much faith did they have in him? Would they still back him if it meant more work and responsibilities for them?

“I assume you’ll be willing to teach him what skills you think he still lacks?” Treville asked. “Having him assigned with you on whatever you’re doing, seeing to it that he doesn’t act in a way that would ruin the regiment’s reputation, taking responsibility if he does and you didn’t stop him?”

Aramis looked at Athos and Porthos. Porthos shrugged.

“You two know him better. I’m in if you are, but it’s your call”, Athos said.

“I’m in, so that means you are too, then”, Aramis replied.

Treville turned back to d’Artagnan.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll do your work for you”, he warned. “It’s up to you to prove yourself worthy of commission. And until you are a Musketeer, you’ll have to arrange somewhere to live in Paris and pay for it yourself.”

“Yes, Captain Treville. I understand. It won’t be a problem”, d’Artagnan promised.

Treville dismissed them. Aramis took d’Artagnan by the arm and led him away, a grin on his face and a glint that promised trouble in his eyes. Treville decided he didn’t want to know what foolishness Aramis had in mind. He hoped it’d only be something like making d’Artagnan get into a wrestling match with Porthos, rather than something that would cause actual problems, like urging him to duel with a Red Guard.

He wondered briefly whether having Aramis, Athos, and Porthos take responsibility of the young man had been such a good idea after all. The three of them, especially Aramis, were better at getting into trouble, both as a part of their duty and in their free time, than anyone Treville had ever met. Now they were sure to drag d’Artagnan along to their adventures. On the other hand, what else should he have done? D’Artagnan wasn’t ready to be a Musketeer yet, but if Aramis and Athos said he had potential, it would be a shame to waste it by sending him back to his farm without giving him the chance to prove himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome, including concrit! :)


End file.
